Music for My Soul by Lauren Linwood Page B

prided himself on his control, but the scene he witnessed brought back too many painful memories. He had spent many hours at his beloved older brother’s bedside before Luke expired from typhoid fever. His mother had begged Garrett to leave, afraid he would catch it. In a strange way, Garrett had secretly hoped he would. He had idolized Luke, following him around like a puppy his entire life. If Luke were gone, then life had not seemed worth living.
    Garrett remembered the last time they’d spoken. It was late, the castle bedded down for the night. Most of the servants avoided Luke’s chamber, their fear of the fever keeping both them and Luke’s friends away.
    A single candle burned next to the bedside, casting eerie shadows on the wall. Luke had been sleeping, his body restless, flinching and twitching. Suddenly, he’d opened his eyes, which burned with the typhus, making them shine brightly.
    Grabbing Garrett’s hand, he whispered, “I still have the scar, you know.”
    Confused, Garrett asked, “What scar?”
    His brother grinned mischievously. “The one on my shoulder. The one you put there, you cretin.”
    Garrett chuckled. “I wanted to hunt, just as you and father did.”
    “And I was your quarry?”
    Garrett shrugged. “I was only four, Luke.” He grinned at the memory. “I thought Father would flay me when I charged you with that spear.”
    Luke shuddered. “How you lifted the damn thing is beyond me.”
    “I know,” Garrett said softly.
    Luke slipped back into sleep as quickly as he’d awakened. Those were the last words he’d spoken. Garrett held his hand for an hour before he’d felt the warmth give way. He was still holding it when the morning rays cast their first light upon a new day. The first he’d faced without Luke. Unluckily for him, he never caught the fever. No hovering between life and death for Garrett. But he’d never been the same. With Luke’s passing, something of him, too, had died. With Lynnette’s abandoning him for another man, it seemed what little feeling he’d had left had gone, as well. Only at rare times did he feel anything, and that was when Lissa brought a smile to his lips.
    Mayhap that was what was different about Madeleine. She had caused him to feel again. How, he did not know, but in some inexplicable way, she made him want to live again. She had a spark of vitality about her, capturing his imagination as Luke had all those years ago. When she spoke, he had an interest in whatever came from her mouth. Most of it had been absolute nonsense, but it was entertaining, all the same. She had a wit about her. For a woman, she thought fast on her feet. He relished the thought of verbally sparring with her again, which brought a rare smile to his face. He was only five and twenty, and he had many more years left to him. It was time he shrugged off his complacency and enjoyed life.
    He stopped a barrel—chested man. “Who is in charge of your troupe?”
    The man scratched his head. “Farley is, though if the truth be told, his wife Elspeth runs things”.” He chuckled. “Farley included, that she does.”
    “And where might I find this Elspeth and Farley?”
    He was directed to a tent that was much larger than the others. Not for luxury on the part of the owners, though. As he entered, he found he could barely move, so great was the clutter inside it. The tent must house every costume and prop used in their performances, he thought.
    Garrett wove his way around to the voices he heard.
    “York did an adequate job, dearest.”
    “But ‘tis not Madeleine, Elspeth. The girl has something about her. I can’t explain it. The crowds want to see her, hear her, not silly York crooning away.”
    “At one time you were happy to have York, Farley.”
    “Well, ‘tis not enough anymore. You must insist Madeleine continue to perform, Elspeth.”
    Elspeth started to answer her husband but stopped and turned in his direction. “Who’s skulking about there? Come